


The (Co-)Captain's New Groove

by starvonnie



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Deepthroating, Disregard for important reports, M/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Throat Bulge, and office furniture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:52:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8550529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starvonnie/pseuds/starvonnie
Summary: The real reason behind why Rodimus changed his colours.





	

"How do I look?"

Megatron didn't even bother to look up from his work.  This wasn't the first time Rodimus had asked him this and it wouldn't be the last.  His answer was always the same.  "You look great, Rodimus."  It wasn't that he didn't want to look at him.  Quite the opposite, actually.  Staring at a gorgeous speedster was far more entertaining than reading these reports, but they had to be filed.  And since Rodimus was too busy fishing for compliments, he certainly wouldn't be the one getting them done.

He received a huffy sigh in response.  Rodimus took a few steps closer to the desk and whined, "You didn't even look!"

Suppressing a sigh of his own, Megatron went to take a quick look and give him the same response, but he found himself staring.  Fiery reds and oranges had been replaced by cool blues and purples, bright over a base of black.  It framed his silver face in a stark contrast.  Suddenly "great" felt like an understatement, and an injustice.

"You changed your colours," was all Megatron's idiot processor could provide.  This was clearly the wrong thing to say, but he had been taken so off guard that even he was at a loss for words.  Even "beautiful" seemed like it wasn't enough.

A now-blue spoiler fell just a little bit, though from the way his field suddenly receded it was clear that he was trying to hide his hurt feelings.  His optics, one of his few constants among the newness, fell to the floor.  "You don't like it?"

"I do like it, Rodimus."  Megatron set the data pad down.  "I love it.  You look beautiful.  I'm just wondering why?"  He just couldn't seem to say the right thing.

Rodimus shrugged. 

Standing, Megatron made his way around the desk to kiss the top of his helm.  The smell of fresh paint was strong, and he had to stop himself from inhaling deeply to relish it.  "You are a vision, my Sun.  Stunning.  Ethereal."

Rodimus gave a snort of laughter, and his field slowly came back out to embrace Megatron.  "No need to get all sappy on me," he teased, snuggling into Megatron's arms.  His field tingled warmly against Megatron's plating.  Then it took on a flash of flirtatiousness.  "So, you wanna know _why_ huh?"

Feeling Rodimus smirk against his chest worried him a little, but in the end curiosity won out.  "I do."

"Well, it's _mostly_ for a change of pace.  I think the crew doesn't take me seriously because I'm so, I dunno, bright?  I wanted to go for something a little less flashy."

"And you chose this?" Megatron teased right back.  Though, to Rodimus, this _was_ toned down.

"Shut up!"  He playfully smacked Megatron on the arm.  "But you wanna know the _real_ reason?"  He tilted his helm back so he could look at Megatron.  Now that he could see the smirk, he trusted it even less, but, again, curiosity.  Plus Rodimus wouldn't leave him be until he asked.

With a little sigh, Megatron asked, "Why, Rodimus?"

Rodimus crooked a finger at him, stretching up as Megatron leaned down to meet him halfway.  His ventilations fell softly on his audial as he whispered, "Black paint won't show up on black paint."

Megatron was confused until he felt a hand on his hip, a blue thumb toying with the edge of his modesty panel.  Because of course Rodimus would do that.

"Now you have no excuses for not doing me on our desk," Rodimus murmured.  "And you and I have nowhere to be for _hours_."

"I have to finish these reports."  Though even as Megatron said it, he knew that they would not be what was getting done tonight.  A warmth was gathering behind his panels and his hands were dropping to a silky, freshly-waxed waist.  Fingers fell into the grooves where his newly programmed neon blue biolights glowed.  When Rodimus gave a shuddering ventilation, he added, "Not to mention that it would be completely unprofessional of us."

"Have I ever cared about that 'professional' slag?"  Rodimus pushed their arrays together.  His was already scalding.

"One of us has to."  Megatron kissed at his audial flare, sliding his glossa up the length of it to the tip, where he suckled on it, loving how Rodimus clawed at his back.  Letting his hot ventilations mist over the sensitive metal, he purred, "Not to mention that Ultra Magnus is expecting them on his desk."

"How about..."  Rodimus started tracing glyphs on Megatron's chest.  He got as far as "rep" before he spoke again.  "... we pretend _you're_ the reports, and I do you so well that even Mags can't complain."

"You're going to turn me into Ultra Magnus after this, hm?"  Megatron moved to his neck, nibbling at the small, sensitive wires there.  They were pliable, and so easily broken if he wasn't careful.  But if he tugged them to almost their limits, then let them snap back, Rodimus would gasp and his frame would arch in a delightful manner.  He adored how his abdominal plating flexed, all but glimmering in the light.  "Afraid you can't get the job done on your own?" Megatron teased him further.  He smirked when he felt him bristle, then bit more roughly at stronger lines, coursing with energon.  He pulled him in tighter when Rodimus' hands grew more fervent on his back.  "I bet he would have no trouble fragging me through the desk."

"Yeah, but everyone will know then."  Rodimus was doing his best to stay in control of the situation, but his words wavered and his vents hitched.

"Hmm...  You make a compelling argument."  Megatron's stroked up his spinal strut until his hand met where his spoiler was mounted.  "But..."  Letting his hand fall away, he reached behind him to pick up a data pad from his desk, reading it over Rodimus shoulder and feigning disinterest.  "These do need to get done."

" _You_ need to get done more."  Rodimus spun out of his arms and plucked the data pad from his hand.  He tossed it away, and from the sound it made, probably broke it.  "Magnus' request for whatever can wait."

"That was a list of supplies I needed to approve for our next stop," Megatron said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever.  I'll make a new list."  Rodimus' hands caressed up Megatron's frame until they were settled on his chest.  "We have plenty of time before we have to make a stop, but only so much time now.  And you're wasting it."

"I thought you said we had plenty?"

"Oh, I'll need every second."  Rodimus revved his engine just a little.

"Ultra Magnus needs that approved by--"

"Listen, Megs, I'm all for foreplay, but this is starting to sound like a bad porno.  Let's just skip all the awkward talk and get right to the good stuff."  Rodimus let his hand drop to Megatron's array.  "All you have to do is lay back and let _me_ work on _you_."  He gave his chest a gentle push.  "C'mon, you're always asking me to work harder, and here I am, offering to work _really_ hard.  You're giving me mixed signals here, Megs."

"I'm starting to think you like the idea of the desk more than me," Megatron teased, but he allowed Rodimus to lay him down, reports be damned.  Rodimus had even less respect for them, swiping them away while Megatron scooted further up the desk until his aft was supported and his feet were dangling.  Hopefully none of the other data pads broke.  One was an accident.  Two or more was suspicious.  Especially after Rodimus followed him in here and didn't come out for hours.

"How about this, then.  I'll frag you after our shift, too."  He stroked up Megatron's thighs as he got between them, his optics taking his frame in hungrily.

Megatron sighed, but it was lighthearted.  "I don't know how I'll ever keep up with you."

"I can take over then, too," Rodimus said.  "All you have to do is lie back and let me frag you."  He pat his modesty panel.  "C'mon.  Open up for me."

As soon as Megatron's valve cover slid aside, Rodimus' hand was on it.  One thumb worked at his anterior node, gently massaging it, while his other hand teased at his rim.

"Hmm...  You're not all that wet yet," Rodimus was disappointed for only a moment before he smiled.  "I know how to fix that."  And then his co-captain disappeared from view.

Megatron was about to ask what he was doing when he felt a wet glossa circling his anterior node, and when he tried to bring his thighs together, Rodimus' helm kept them apart.  His blue hands stroked up his thighs, encouraging them to open, then stroked along transformation seams that had Megatron bucking up.

"I love how responsive you are," Rodimus purred into his valve, then got back to suckling on his node.

Gasping, Megatron clutched at Rodimus' helm.

Smirking against him, Rodimus slid his hand up Megatron's sides, caressing slowly back down.  He only stopped to dip into seams and pluck at wires, until Megatron was panting and arching off of the desk.

"Isn't this better than filing reports?"  Rodimus gave his node long, flat licks with his glossa, which had Megatron clawing at the desk.  The scrapes he left would have been hard to explain were the desk not already marred with Rodimus' many art projects.  "In fact, I think we should replace reports with this.  And since we're doing that, consider this the report requesting that all reports be replaced with eating out."

"Maybe if you stop talking you could actually finish a report for once," Megatron growled, shoving Rodimus' helm against his valve.  He didn't seem to mind, though.  Licking and suckling away.

Megatron let his helm rest against the desk, closing his optics and just feeling the charge gather in his array.  Centering on a very eager glossa.

Rodimus thumbed at his spike cover; a question unsaid, as his mouth was occupied.  Of course Megatron freed it, keening when Rodimus' hand stroked up its length.  He forced his optics open, though.  To watch what still seemed like a foreign hand pumping his spike.  To watch the unfamiliarly coloured helm work between his legs.  He was only recognizable when his azure optics flashed open and found his, watching him.  They squinted just a bit with his smile.

"Frag, you're hot," Rodimus said as he stood.  Megatron was about to beg him to keep going when his mouth found a new target and engulfed his spike.  That Rodimus could take it all still left him in awe, but he was only able to keep his optics open for so long.  And there would be no opening them after Rodimus slowly pushed a digit inside of him.

Megatron groped around until his fingers found Rodimus' slowly bobbing helm.  He stroked at his finials and moaned when Rodimus started to move a little faster.

Then all at once Rodimus backed off, and Megatron was left empty and heated.  He gave a shuddering ventilation and got up onto his elbows, finding Rodimus with his spike out, just gently stroking its head.

"Oh, did you want something?" Rodimus asked with a mischievous glint in his optics.  He put his hands on his hips and thrust them out a little, displaying his newly painted spike.

"...Really, Rodimus?"

"What?"  Rodimus looked down at his spike.  When he looked back up at Megatron, he said, "At least it isn't flames anymore."

"I can see that."

Megatron couldn't decide if it was better or worse.  It was mostly black now, with intricate lines of blue and purple up the shaft.  Which wouldn't have been so bad, if that was all Rodimus had done.  But, in bright blue neon paint, were glyphs.  He would have read them, but that would involve acknowledging their existence.

With a sigh, Megatron asked, "Rodimus, did you really get glyphs tattooed on your spike?"

Rodimus smirked.  "You like?"

With another, bigger sigh, and knowing he was going to regret it, Megatron asked, "And what, pray tell, does your spike have to say?"

Showing Megatron one side, Rodimus said, "'Hot," then turned to the other and said, "'Rod.'"

Megatron's hand went to his face.  "Why am I not surprised?"

"So... You want a taste of my Hot Rod?"

Megatron actually groaned.  He peeked through his fingers to see Rodimus grinning at him.  "Please tell me you did not go through all of that trouble just so you could say that."

Rodimus pouted.  "C'mon, you know you like it."

Megatron sighed, letting his hands drop.  "Just get it inside of me so I don't have to look at it."

"And that was exactly the reaction I was hoping to get," Rodimus said as he closed the gap between them.  "Now you'll want me to frag you even more."

"Or maybe this will be the last time so you'd better enjoy it," Megatron threatened, but he was smiling.

"You like it too much," Rodimus countered, kissing at Megatron's chest and intertwining their digits.  "But you're not going to get it until you tell me how much you love it."  The tip of Rodimus' spike hovered near the entrance, and true to his word, he shifted away when Megatron tried to wiggle forward and get it.  "I wanna hear it, Megs."

Megatron growled and tried to wrap his legs around Rodimus to force him in, but he pushed back, always just out of reach.  With a pleading tone, he said, "You aren't really going to make me do this, are you?"

Rodimus shrugged, smirking.  "I guess you have to ask yourself: is Rodimus _really_ that petty?"

Frag.

" _Fine_."  Swallowing his pride, his dignity, and whatever self-respect he had left, Megatron said, "I love your spike."

"And?"

"And it's hot."

" _And_?"

"And if you don't get it inside of me now I will never frag you again and that is a _promise_!" Megatron snarled.

"Well, I suppose you've earned it."  With a smirk and one quick movement, Rodimus was inside.  He didn't give Megatron's calipers time to adjust and started with a hard pace that had the desk scraping across the floor with every thrust.  "Feels good, huh?"

As if it would feel any different.

"You just love my spike," Rodimus purred, kissing at whatever bit of plating could be reached.

Megatron almost didn't want to enjoy it, knowing he was letting something that looked so garish enter him.  But he did love it.  He loved feeling himself get filled by his... _Hot Rod_.  Primus, he was glad he didn't have to call _him_ that.  But now every time he wanted this he was going to have to endure that sight.

Oh, but he might be able to forget if Rodimus kept his hands on him.  They were finding his back and encouraging him to arch it.  He yielded, allowing him to scratch at his back plating.  So much for fragging without anyone knowing.

Truthfully, though, he loved being marked.  Having someone who would claim him as their own.  Maybe that spot was inconspicuous enough.  Well, whether or not is was, it was there.  And Rodimus was quick to give it some friends.

"Moan for me," Rodimus ordered while his glossa traced the patterns on his chest.

"Oh, Rodimus," Megatron complied, a moan on the end of every ventilation.

"Yeah, just like that."  He slowed his pace just enough to stop the desk from scraping the floor.  It was a wonder no one had come to investigate yet.  "Frag, you're hot."

Steam poured from Rodimus' vents, and he'd no doubt already scratched the floor with the desk.  Even if they managed to keep their fluids off of, well, _everything_ , it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they had been doing in here.  Regardless of whether they had the paint transfers to condemn them or not.

But, frag it all, if it wasn't fun to do.  In fact, he could only think of one thing that would make this more fun.

"You should come around to the other side of the desk," Megatron suggested.

"Oh?  And what if I like where I am?"  Rodimus gave a few hard thrusts.

"Come around the desk," Megatron ordered.  " _Now_."

When Rodimus finally listened to him, Megatron shifted up the desk until his helm was hanging off of it.  As soon as Rodimus was close enough, he put his hands on his hips and pulled him in so that he could take the head of his spike into his mouth.  Just that had Rodimus' ventilations hitching.

"So you _do_ want a taste of my Hot Rod, huh?"

Megatron responded by tugging his hips in closer, taking all of his spike into his mouth in one quick movement.  And while it was hard to do, Megatron still managed to smirk with his mouth full as Rodimus was forced to cling onto the desk.  Even more so when he swallowed and his throat rippled around his spike.

"Frag, Megs," Rodimus hissed out through clenched denta, "how are you so good at that?"

Megatron pushed his hips back, a string of drool connecting them for a moment.  With another smirk, he said, "Four million years of practice."

Now it was Rodimus' turn to facepalm.  "I can't believe you just said that."

"This coming from the one who literally got 'Hot Rod' tattooed on his spike."

"Shut up."  Rodimus thrust back into his mouth.  "And I mean that quite literally."

Rodimus held Megatron's helm firmly in his hands, thrusting deep into his throat.  Deep enough that Megatron's taut neck cables would bulge a little when he was completely inside of him.  That, along with all of the energon rushing to his helm, had Megatron's optics rolling back into his helm.  Even more so when Rodimus' stopped suddenly, fully seated in him, and stroked at his distended throat.

"You like this, don't you?" Rodimus purred, slowly thrusting into him.  He kept his hand on his neck, delighting in the fact that he could feel where his spike was.

:: _You seem to like it too_ ,:: Megatron sent him an internal comm. 

With an unyielding grip, Megatron took hold of Rodimus' hips again.  He took his spike in to the hilt, and then swallowed around his spike.  Again and again and again until he felt the shake of knees about to give way.  Then he let him pull out until just his spike head was inside.  Glossa circling it until Rodimus was whimpering.

"Seriously," Rodimus said through grit denta, "literally no one who has ever sucked my spike has ever been this good.  Did you sell your soul or something?"

Megatron let his hips go and laid his arms on the desk.  They were getting pretty tired, anyways.

"One only requires the patience," Megatron teased.  "I would gladly teach you."

"I think for now I'll stick with the hands-on approach," Rodimus insinuated, lining up his spike again. 

Megatron was already opening his mouth in welcome, his glossa pushed just past his glistening lips.

Rodimus pushed in again, for once choosing a pace between going as fast as he was physically able and teasingly slow.  Which made it the perfect speed for Megatron to truly enjoy it.  To hear his ventilations catch in his throat, and all the little moans and groans that escaped his vocalizer.  To truly enjoy the fingers on his throat, petting his helm, and stroking at his chest.  To watch his frame shake with his impending overload.

His moans would grow louder, his thrusts harder, the closer he got.  His hands would become less careful, until all he could do was hold on to something.  His ventilations would no longer catch, but grew ragged, unable to truly dispel the heat from his frame.  And then would come the squeaks.  The ones he was self-conscious of but couldn't help.  He'd let one slip whenever he'd catch a node just right.  Or when a wave of charge would sweep over him.  He thought they were unattractive, but Megatron had always found them cute.  Now, though, he found them sexy, because he knew Rodimus was getting close.

Megatron rubbed at his anterior node at the first squeak.  He knew he wouldn't be able to get himself off in such a short time, but he couldn't ignore the erotic noises coming from Rodimus.  They had his valve clamping down on nothing, begging for any stimulation.

"Frag, I'm close."  It was still sweet of Rodimus to warn him.

:: _Overload for me_.::

With one final thrust, Rodimus sheathed himself completely inside Megatron's mouth, clutching at his helm as his spike pumped transfluid down his throat.  Megatron swallowed it all, or at least most of it.  A tiny dribble still fell from the corner of his mouth when Rodimus pulled out, his spike depressurizing.

"We should do this more often," Megatron said, his optics still unfocused.  He licked up the drop he missed, giving Rodimus a wobbly smile. 

"You mean this whole thing?  Or when I frag your face?" 

Megatron couldn't see Rodimus smirking, but he knew he was.

"Both."  He exvented, satisfied.  "Preferably soon."

"What, you think I'm done with you?" Rodimus pant.  He gave a little laugh while he circled around the desk.  "I still have something else new to show you.  Besides, you haven't even gotten your overload yet."  Sliding his valve cover aside, Rodimus climbed up onto the desk.  Megatron's optics were drawn to his valve, which was, thankfully, much more tasteful than his spike.  Beautiful, even.  He couldn't wait to be inside it.  But...

"Wait," Megatron said, stopping him before he could straddle him.  Looking from Rodimus' face to his new neon blue biolight-covered valve, he asked, "Can we do this with the lights off?"

Though he was clearly still tired, Rodimus grinned wide and hopped off of the desk to scurry over and shut the lights off.  Megatron followed his biolights, from his optics to the lines on his waist that seemed to be pointing to his new glowing array.  Megatron's spike grew that much harder as he watched the glow get closer as Rodimus climbed back onto the desk, until the ring sat just above his spike.  So close he felt a drip of lubricant fall upon it.

"I had a feeling you'd like this," Rodimus said. 

Megatron moaned but made sure to keep his optics open as he watched the neon glow swallow his spike. 

"Are you still going to be able to frag me after work?" Megatron teased, though he was already quite satisfied.

"You let me worry about that," Rodimus said.  "Now you just lay there while I give you an overload you'll never forget."

**Author's Note:**

> Look me in the eye and tell me Rodimus wouldn't get that tattooed on his dick


End file.
